Hidden Desires (2 page)

Feeling his groin tighten, Travis turned to a shelf and pretended to examine a pair of wool socks. His ears perked, however, as he continued to listen to Rachel speak.

“The line at the ladies’ fitting room was so long, and I thought I’d save time by coming over to this department,” she said, laughing softly. “I didn’t think this would happen.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” the manager replied.

“But it is. I’m sincerely sorry. It’s just that I design lingerie, and I often come by stores to see how my stuff looks.”

Travis clenched his fists to stifle another rush of desire. He knew exactly how her stuff looked.

Absolutely phenomenal.

“I promise the next time I come here, I’ll stick to the women’s department.” Travis watched from the corner of his eye as Rachel bid goodbye to the manager and sales clerk, and walked away. Without hesitation, he strode after her.

“Rachel, wait,” he called.

She paused for a moment, and then picked up her pace.

“Rachel!”

He quickened his strides until he caught up to her, then reached for her arm. The second his hand came into contact with her, electricity coursed through his body. With a jolt, he withdrew his hand.

“I have to get going,” she said in a clipped tone, spinning around quickly as if she’d rather be chased by a pack of hungry wolves than talk to him.

Irritation flickered in his gut. He got the feeling that she despised him, yet for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. He’d always been friendly to her when they were younger, and yes, he and her sister had broken up, but not by his doing. The fact that he was unable to figure out her reaction to him caused his irritation to coil into a tight knot of fury.

“I’m sure you have a minute to spare for an old acquaintance,” he said firmly.

“Actually, I don’t.”

Damn, since when did he beg for a woman’s time? Usually women lined up to spend even a second with him, and the dozens of phone numbers in his BlackBerry proved he wasn’t lacking in female attention.

If he were smart he’d walk away right now. Rachel was far too emotional at the moment and he refused to be affected by her obviously fragile state.

He just wished she didn’t look so gorgeous. At sixteen, Rachel had been pretty. At thirty-one, she was a goddamn knockout, and she didn’t need lingerie to make her that way. Even now, with a pair of faded blue jeans encasing her long legs and a curve-hugging green sweater that complemented her eyes, she looked good enough to eat.

“Sorry, I really need to go,” she said, taking a step forward.

He sidestepped her and blocked her path. “Did I do something to upset you?” She just stared at him, her emerald eyes darkening. He could swear he saw a flash of anger in those luminous circles.

“No,” she answered curtly. “You did nothing to upset me. Can I go now?” He moved closer, so that her back was pressed against a rack of sweaters. “How’ve you been?” he asked, ignoring her question.

Her eyes flashed again. “I’ve been just fine.”

Not deterred by her less-than-enthusiastic tone, he went on. “I heard you mention you’re a designer.”

“Yes.” She exhaled sharply. “Travis, please move. I need to go.” She tried to move past him, but he closed her in. When he lowered his gaze, he saw a twinge of fright on her face. An inexplicable pang of guilt tugged at his gut as he realized he’d trapped her against the rack like a cornered rat. Christ, he knew he had the tendency to be demanding, but he was no tyrant.

He took a step back, but it happened to be at the precise moment a passing shopper tried to squeeze through the already narrow aisle. The man bumped into Travis’s back, causing him to stumble right into Rachel.

Her mouth widened in a deep O as he fell against her, and within seconds, Travis, Rachel and the rack of sweaters tumbled to the tiled floor.

His body was slamming over hers before he could even attempt to prevent the fall. Though, he wasn’t really complaining about the current position they found themselves in. The feel of Rachel’s lithe body beneath his caused every part of him to harden. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her stomach right against his groin, and their legs had tangled on their way down to the hard ground.

All the breath drained from his body as he met her gaze. She looked stunned. But more than that, he thought he saw a flicker of desire in her eyes. Everything around them—the array of clothing and shoppers and the sales clerk who had rushed over—all hissed and crackled and then disappeared. All he saw, all he felt, was the woman under him.

He let his eyes roam her face, absorbing the splash of freckles at the bridge of her dainty nose, the long sooty eyelashes fluttering over her eyes, the soft pout of her lips. Her lips. Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.

“Get. Off. Me.”

The menace he heard in her voice snapped him out of his sensual thoughts. Feeling her bucking beneath him, he slowly raised himself up and extended his hand. Ignoring his offer of help, she jumped to her feet and brushed dark-blonde strands of hair out of her face.

“You okay?” he asked sharply, slightly disturbed by his overwhelming reaction to her.

Ignoring him, she reached down and tried to lift the rack that had fallen over.

“Let me do that,” he said.

She stopped, only to shoot him a dirty look. “I can do it myself.” He gritted his teeth. Of course, she had to be one of those stubborn women who refused to accept a man’s assistance. “No. I’ll do it.” He grasped her by the waist and forcibly moved her aside, then lifted the rack himself. As he began picking up discarded sweaters, she pinned him with a glare.

“Goodbye, Travis.”

Before she could move, his hand shot out to grasp her arm. “Damn it, Rachel, why are you behaving like a child?” He heard the harsh tone of his voice and softened it. “Look, why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee and we can catch up?”

The second he said the words, her cheeks flushed and her jaw tightened. “I don’t
want
to catch up,” she said in an ominous tone. “I don’t want a cup of coffee. All I want is to walk out of this department store.” She exhaled shakily. “It’s wonderful you’re sorry about what happened to my sister, I’ll be sure to keep your sympathy very close to my heart.” She paused. “That was sarcasm, if you didn’t pick up on it.”

“Rachel—”

“Travis, just go away.” She sucked in her breath. “I don’t want to catch up with you. In fact, you’d be the last person I’d want to reminisce with, okay? So just pretend we never saw each other today. Because that’s sure as hell what I’m going to do.”

Feeling like he’d just been whacked in the chest with a sledgehammer, all Travis could do was watch her stalk away.

Chapter Two

Rachel stormed out of the department store, working hard to keep her pace under a full-throttled run.

She attributed her fluster to her half-naked stint through the store. It certainly had nothing to do with her reunion with Travis Gage. If anything, her encounter with him should have left her exhilarated. After fifteen years, she’d finally had the opportunity to tell the creep off, to let him know she hadn’t forgotten what he’d done to her sister. But instead of feeling thrilled, she was overcome with a desperate need to get as far away from that store and everyone in it as quickly as possible.

It was Sales Boy Chris and that tent in his pants that had left her hot under the collar. She was sure of it. Not that she had a fetish for horny teenage boys. It was just difficult to see the extent of a man’s lust without feeling
something
.

And that something couldn’t be attributed to Travis Gage.

That would be insane.

That would be despicable.

She couldn’t have feelings for the man who had been single-handedly responsible for the death of her sister. Her body had a better memory than that.

Her rattled nerves began to calm as she approached her car, but her relief turned to fear when she rummaged through her purse in search of her keys. They were nowhere to be found. She checked her pockets, looked through her bag, then began emptying the contents of her purse onto the hood of her car when she heard that smoky voice behind her.

“Looking for these?”

The sight of Travis dissolved her previous notion that anyone else had been responsible for that tingling sensation she’d felt in the store. It returned full-speed when she turned and saw him standing behind her, her keys dangling from one long finger.

“Where did you get those?”

“You left them at the counter.”

Relief, anger, and that pesky quiver in her gut mixed to create another cocktail of heated fluster. She reached out to grab the keys from his hand, but he snatched them out of her reach.

“Answer one question,” he said, twirling the keys on his finger before clutching them tightly in his hand.

“I’m not playing games with you. Just give me the keys.”

“I get the feeling you despise me. Why is that, Rachel?”

She tried to ignore the thoughtful narrowing of his eyes. He knew damn well why she hated him, and if he didn’t, he was too stupid to warrant an answer.

“You know the answer to that question.”

A wisp of remorse crossed his expression. “Rachel, I’m sorry I never came around after Carrie’s death. You’re right. It was cruel of me to stay away. I should have been there for you.” Her mouth dropped open. How he could possibly think she’d wanted him around after her sister’s death was simply incomprehensible. She’d heard that men were dense, but up until now, she’d never truly believed it.

“Trust me. You’re the last person I wanted to see then, and you’re the last person I want to see now.” She reached for his hand. “Give me my keys.”

He pulled them out of her reach. “You can’t say something like that and expect a man to walk away, sweetheart.”

She ignored the husky endearment and the way it made her heart skip a beat. Instead, she shot back,

“Obviously, shattering a girl to the point of suicide means nothing to you.” He took two steps back. Stumbled was more like it. She could tell he didn’t see that comment coming.

Every feature on his handsome face hardened. His big shoulders stiffened, and he stared at her warily, as if she’d just uncovered a secret he’d hoped to keep buried forever.

Her lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Yes, I know what you did, so you can stop with the innocent act, give me my keys, and let me go home.”

“You think I drove her to suicide?” Utter disbelief lined his tone. “Considering she broke up with me, that doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

Now Rachel was the one left stupefied. “She broke up with you?” She had to laugh. “That may be what you told your friends, but I know exactly what you did to Carrie. It’s all written in her diary. All the promises you made, you were going to take her away, help her start a new life, and then you smashed all her hopes like it was nothing to you.”

The deadly look on his face told her she’d just shot and scored. Another sour chuckle emerged from her chest. “Yes, Travis. I read all about it. So you can stop playing dumb.”

“You know what, Rachel? Your story is so farfetched that—” He laughed humorlessly, not bothering to continue.

Since her keys now dangled limply in his hand, she took the opportunity to snatch them from his grasp. She’d intended to take them and flee. She was through reminiscing about the most painful period of her life with the man who was responsible for it all. Unfortunately, she noticed that the contents of her purse were still scattered over the hood of her car. She grabbed the black bag and began collecting her things.

“You’ve concocted quite a tale,” he remarked, his deep voice steady. “But did you ever stop to examine its merit? I never told Carrie I’d take her away. How could I? I was just a kid on my way to college. And she broke up with me two days after prom. We never had time to talk about what would happen after we graduated.”

“It’s in her diary. All the arrangements you were making to take Carrie and me away from here. Then the phone call telling her it was all off. That was the day she…” She picked up her pace, shoving the last of the items in her purse. She didn’t want to have this conversation, and it was officially time to get out of this parking lot, away from this man, and away from this part of town forever.

She grabbed her purse then moved to unlock the door when Travis’s hand slapped against the door, holding it in place.

“Do you still have it?”

Rachel froze in place. She could practically feel his breath wafting against her neck. She could hear his heart thundering in his chest. His arm had brushed against her shoulder, sending heat splaying through her veins, and the sensation was unwelcome. Travis Gage was a man she should despise, and her body’s reaction to the closeness of his touch, his musky scent, the determination in his voice, just angered her more.

She refused to turn around, afraid of what she might feel if she looked him square in those gorgeous brown eyes. Through clenched teeth, she replied, “I’m not showing you my dead sister’s diary.”

“Rachel,” he spoke roughly into her ear. “If I’m responsible for Carrie’s death, I need to know.”

“I told you what I read.” She held her breath, trying to keep that manly scent from drifting through her thoughts.

“She mentioned me by name?” He moved closer, raising the temperature in her veins.

She pressed her body to the car, attempting to put some space between them. “I know what I read.”

“She said I’d called her the day she died?”

“Yes…well.” Her thoughts grew confused, and suddenly Rachel had her own interest in seeing the diary again. Her sister hadn’t exactly mentioned Travis by name. She’d never put names in her diary, but Rachel knew the codes. She had called him BF. That always stood for boyfriend. And Travis was her boyfriend. There was nothing in there about a break-up, she was certain of it. Or at least she’d been certain.

“Show me the diary, Rachel.”

Against her better judgment, she turned and what she saw left her stunned. His face was pained, and in his eyes there was nothing other than raw confusion. She’d always believed Travis was the BF Carrie had been referring to in her diary. She needed to believe it. She needed to have someone to blame, and as silly as it seemed, she had actually sought comfort in knowing who was responsible for shattering her sister to pieces.